


Heaven

by PenShips



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Earth-2, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 13:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13905288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenShips/pseuds/PenShips
Summary: A small window into an AU Earth-Two where Iris and Harry are together.





	Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this a while ago and as an effort to finish all my unfinished things, here. slam dunk both me and my past self in the trash it's fine.

Harrison Wells surveys the Metahuman Gala from the venue’s indoor balcony with boredom. He’s not particularly a sociable person and large gatherings of people tend to irritate him but alas as one of the chief scientists organising the event, he couldn’t miss it for the world. Jesse, his daughter, made sure he'd been here on time and lectured him about not being so publicly cranky in the car. She is somewhere below this very moment, off mingling with various guests. Jesse’s always had more of her late mother’s blood in her than his, he thinks sadly, taking a sip of champagne from his flute.

He blanches and rests his drink on the balcony border. Hard liquor with a high percentage of alcohol was something he preferred if he were ever to drink which, he might add, isn’t usually a steady occurrence. He's not a social drinker or one who uses alcohol to unwind but he knew that being seen with a complimentary drink would give off a relaxed air about him. Taking in his calmer surroundings away from the crowd, Harrison takes his time to breathe deeply and slowly. It’s a cowardice move for sure but he'd rather be labelled as a boring scientist by the media than cranky old man.

As he's taking his time to actually relax, a presence makes itself known by brushing their shoulder against his. He glances at the person and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he does a double take. Iris West is quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life and her outfit simply accentuates her every curve and heavenly shape. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes are automatically drawn to her mouth, her ruby red lips curving into a dangerous smile.

He leans towards her, heartbeat accelerating the closer he gets but is stopped when her hand gently pushes on his chest. Harrison clears his throat and moves away. ‘I-’ he tries to apologise but she stops him with a shake of her head.

‘I saw you up here all by yourself,’ she says. ‘Are you okay?’

His mind is swimming with the colour green-the colour of her dress-to comprehend much of what she's saying. God, how did this all start? A rhetorical question of course because he remembers every satisfying, torrid detail vividly. He remembers the candescence light above her head like a halo the first time and how he'd wondered watching her in the throes of passion, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her beautiful face, what good in the world he had done to get her.

‘You look breathtaking,’ he says quietly to her, hands reaching out but never quite touching. Their relationship needs to be kept secret, at least for now. ‘Absolutely stunning.’

‘Stop it,’ she says, a traitorous smile ruining her angry façade. ‘But you know, you don't look so bad yourself, old man.’

There's a playfulness in her voice that softens the insult. He knows that in his late forties, he should perfectly fine with being classed as an old man but his ego tends to rule both his heart and mind. He watches her; the fire in her eyes, the lithe form of her smile, her hair falling to frame her beautiful face and he _knows_ he is in deep. It wasn't really meant to happen, this thing between them. A passionate misplaced word or two, a heated debate and the next thing either of them know, they're stripping each other's clothes off in a frenzied fever.

Harrison clears his throat, trying to shift his hips away from her. The intensity of the first time hits him like a freight train and he struggles to calm his breathing but it's somewhat too late. The blood’s already rushing southward.

‘But you _do_ look so tense,’ she continues, her voice softer, huskier as she moves closer to him. ‘I thought you'd want some relief before your big speech.’

Harrison grits his teeth as her hands ghost over his backside. ‘You can't be serious,’ he says. A mere lip service to a code of morality and etiquette that he's long since thrown out of the window after seeing her in that dress.

She hums, tuneless but mocking. ‘I’m not wearing any underwear.’

A breath escapes him, one he didn't know he'd been holding. It's past the point of no return because the minute she uttered those words, Iris had sealed her faith of being well and thoroughly fucked in this museum. Despite the seemingly spontaneous nature of this encounter, he knows she's probably been planning this for a while now. Public sex is one of her kinks and while he too enjoys the thrill, neither of them actually desire to be caught.

He turns, inhaling sharply when her hands brush his upper thigh; so close to where he wanted it but so far. ‘Where?’ he asks, already plotting to make her pay for her teasing.

Iris inclines her head to the left and draws his eyes to a small door, the words ‘Museum Director’ printed on the upper glass. He's never actually met the man in charge of the museum but they have talked on the phone and Harrison always manages to detect a hint of arrogance and prejudice oozing out of his voice. It might be juvenile but a chance to defile the bastard’s office just adds to the thrill. His cock twitches and he exhales, tensing his muscles to stop himself from taking her right here and now in plain view of everyone at the Gala.

‘How,’ he begins to say, his voice husky and strained. ‘did you arrange that?’

She snorts. ‘Are you seriously asking that? I have no underwear on and we’re five feet from a private room where you can _ravish_ me.’

‘You’re right, my mistake.’

Grabbing her by her hand, he pulls her into the office and the minute the door closes, Iris launches herself at him. He has just enough time to brace himself to catch her and steady himself otherwise they’d both end up on the floor. Her slim legs wind their way around his waist, arms around his shoulders while her hands find their way into his hair. There’s a moment where time stops and all he can see are those beautiful brown eyes, so dark and rich, full of passion and dare he say, love? It starts again when she crashes her lips against his; hard, fast paced and it somewhat lacks the vision of a slow seduction and panting Iris he’d had in mind.

‘Whoa,’ he manages to say, pulling away from her slightly. ‘What’s the rush?’

She untangles herself from him but still remains close. ‘Your speech. You can’t miss your speech.’

Harrison laughs softly, walking around her toward the large encompassing desk in the room. ‘I am not doing the speech. Jay Garrick is so _we_ have all the time in the world,’ he informs her.

‘And exactly when did that happen?’

He tuts and shakes his head at her. ‘Are you seriously asking me that,’ he mimicked. ‘We’re in a private room with a desk and in no hurry.’ 

He gestures to the contents on the desk, there’s not much there; a few small stacks of papers and one paper weight. Obviously the museum director did a bit of cleaning before the Gala-Harrison grins, too bad that won’t matter. He reaches over and sweeps everything off it. The papers scatter, floating gently to the ground and while the organised businessman in him aches at little at the sight, he can’t help but feel a little self satisfied when Iris gasps.

‘I’ve always wanted to do that but haven’t had the heart to do it in my own office. Too much mess to clean up afterwards.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ she laughs but meanders around him, hands ghosting over his chest, to prop herself up on the desk. ‘I bet you’ll want me fall to my knees and beg you to ravish me, oh so macho man who throws things off desks.’

He joins in her laughter and leans forward, pulling her in for a kiss. This time it’s languid, both their hands exploring each other with a tenderness that always manages to shock him. There is no doubt in his mind that he’s in love with her and he’d follow her to the ends of the universe if he had to but it’s not always easy to read Iris. As her hands massage the back of his hair and fingers flit over his hair, the thoughts are shied from his brain. He has her for now and that is all that matters.

‘I am macho,’ he says jokingly as he nips the bottom of her lips. ‘And trust me, you’ll be begging for the ravishing yourself.’

Inching his hands up her thighs, he takes time to commit to memory the softness of her skin and the hitch in her breath as he kisses the line of her jaw. He traces random patterns on her upper thigh, a sense of pride when she arches as he gets so close to where she truly wants it but he intends to take his time. Not solely for the purposes for drawing out her pleasure but also he selfishly wants this moment to last. He knows one day Iris is going to realise that she has no future with him; they are, on paper, worlds apart and both in different stages of their life and yet somehow he cannot seem to find this distance that should be there.

Still the future is clouded and theirs even more, every moment with her is a treasure, a secret gift from the universe he knows may be snatched away at any given time. He kneels down to worship her, rolling up her dress cautiously to reveal soft supple skin. His eyes flit over her form in awe; the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and he still can’t grasp the fact that she would want him. Harrison presses a kiss to her inner thigh and then moves to her other thigh.

‘You may not have your speech but it is still _your_ Gala,’ Iris says, impatience clear in her voice.

He glances up at her, the corner of his mouth tugging at the smile he’s trying to keep hidden. ‘Meaning?’

‘People are going to wonder if you go missing for too long.’

‘Let them wonder,’ he replies before nudging her legs wider apart. God, she is already so aroused. He swallows in anticipation of making her scream his name. ‘I don’t care.’

He uses his fingers first; she likes that, he knows, caressing her clit gently and careful, with hardly any pressure. Her hips twitch forward in response and the smile he’d been hiding makes it to the surface. She’s so wet, no doubt throughout the evening in complete anticipation of this moment. Perhaps she had assumed he would want the satisfaction of a quick romp but oh, she has no idea what he wants. He’s going to make her cum, using only his hands and mouth, once, twice, hell if he could he’d try for a third.

‘I hate you,’ she tells him with no real malice behind it. ‘I really do.’

‘Somehow, I highly doubt that,’ he grins, teasing a finger inside her and there in that moment, Harrison finds himself unwilling to ever move; to forever be entrenched in this relationship, contained in this bubble, worshipping at her feet, in between her thighs. It would be heaven.


End file.
